


sixteen floating candles

by supersonica



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, M/M, basically the sixteen candles au of the hogwarts au of the breakfast club, if that makes any sense at all, regarding characterisation - An Attempt Was Made, the Monday after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-09 20:59:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16457117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersonica/pseuds/supersonica
Summary: "As easy as it had been Saturday night and all through Sunday—to pretend like Saturday detention didn’t happen, to pretend like she was the same girl she was before she stepped into that classroom—that night she couldn’t stop thinking about what might happen the next day."





	sixteen floating candles

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooo, first published CR fic, and of course it's for the Hogwarts AU oneshot.  
> Obviously, all rights go to the creators and the wonderful ~~Laura Bailey~~ (who absolutely murdered me with her Beetle voice btw that was Too Cute)  
> If the characterisation is rough, please account for the fact that Claire was played by Samuel "never read Harry Potter, never seen the Breakfast Club" Riegel, so be soft with me  
> Also, note: I just used the original HP proper nouns because I couldn't figure out the spelling of the copyright-safe ones.  
> Enjoy!   
> \- Tommy

 

It had been a weird weekend.

Obviously, Claire was still upset about being in detention in the first place. She still thought there was absolutely no  _ way  _ she should’ve been in there—she was a Gryffindor house captain, for god's sakes, and just because she skipped  _ one  _ Divination class didn’t mean that she should’ve had to fight  _ pixies  _ and  _ chess  _ and  _ spiders. _

Especially with that group of weirdos; after they’d been let out of detention on Saturday, Claire had spent the rest of the day, and all through Sunday, convincing herself that everything that had happened didn’t matter, and that come Monday morning they’d all be back to normal. 

And on Saturday night, sitting with her friends as they showed her their haul from Hogsmead, drinking stolen butterbeer, it had been easy to shrug the whole thing off as just one of those weird things that happens at a magical boarding school. Surely, her mother must have similar stories from her time at Hogwarts, and look at  _ her _ —successful, well-to-do, respected by everyone. Surrounded by other successful, well-to-do, respected people.

_ Unhappy _ , said a very small voice in the back of her head.  _ Mum doesn’t even like her friends. _

_ Shut up,  _ Claire told the voice.  _ I’ve self-actualised, you’re not supposed to be here. _

Sunday passed as quickly as blinking, rather than the usual slog through homework. Claire spent most of her time in the common room, figuring that she didn’t really need to go to the library this early in the term. Certainly not avoiding the skinny blond boy she usually saw by the Muggle Fiction shelves, or the Slytherin athlete who had tutoring at the sixth years’ study tables.

And as easy as it had been Saturday night and all through Sunday—to pretend like Saturday detention didn’t happen, to pretend like she was the same girl she was before she stepped into that classroom—that night she couldn’t stop thinking about what might happen the next day.

_ Nothing probably, _ she thought, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sounds of four other girls sleeping,  _ it’s not as if anyone else is that desperate for new friends. Not that I am. Of course. I like my friends, they’re great, they bought me a new diet scroll today. And they didn’t even mention that I wasn’t with them. I’m happy. _

_ Do happy people need to tell themselves they’re happy? _

_ Yes. It’s called affirmation, and it’s one of the habits of highly successful people. _

_ Sure. _

Existentialist reflection, however, was  _ not  _ one of the habits of highly successful people, and as such Claire tried to redirect her thoughts towards the one thing about the week that even detention couldn’t ruin: tomorrow (today?) was her sixteenth birthday.

Ever since she was a kid, Claire had been excited beyond words for her sixteenth birthday. She was excited for the presents, for being able to get her driver’s license the next time she went home, for all the butterbeer she could now order, and most of all, for the promise her mum had made her time and time again—she’d take Claire out of school and they would spend the day, just the two of them, apparating in and out of the best shopping spots in Europe. They’d eat amazing cakes in Paris, and visit art galleries in Amsterdam, and spend money in Milan like it was going out of style. 

_ And maybe _ , Claire thought,  _ I can ask Mum about all the things she got up to when she was in school. I bet she did much weirder things than killing spiders without getting hung up on it.  _

It was going to be  _ excellent _ .

—

It was not.

The next morning saw Claire get up nearly half an hour earlier than anyone else in the tower, dressed in her most un-uniform-y robes (though of course her mum would bring her a change of clothes) and sitting in front of the fireplace as if she could will her mother into existence. 

She waited, and waited, as the other girls from her dorm walked out with only a passing “Hey, Claire.” 

By the time the other students started trickling out to breakfast, Claire was still sitting there, no longer quite as excited as she was confused.  _ This was the plan, wasn’t it? Mum was going to use the fireplace to message me when she was at the castle gates, I’d go get Professor Maflaflagon, and we’d be off...right? _

Deciding that maybe her mum would be waiting for her in the Great Hall, Claire stood, with a huff, and walked herself down towards breakfast. There, she did not find her mother, but she  _ did  _ see a familiar twig of a boy at the Ravenclaw table, who looked like he was being harassed by some of his peers.

As Claire drew nearer to the small group on the bench (purely out of curiosity which was in no way concern), she started to pick up on some of their conversation:

“So, you going to try again, then?” giggled an athletic girl with long hair shaved on one side.

Her compatriot, a half-elf with pristine robes and very white teeth, snorted. “As if it’d do anything. Look at him, he couldn’t hit a target if it were two inches from his nose.”

She laughed, jostling Brian’s shoulder, and turned to the half-elf. “True, lol. Better steer clear if you don’t want him to singe your fringe, Marius. But anyway,” she turned back to Brian, “the fuck is up with you saying Claire Stannish is, like, your bestie?”

Brian, Claire could see, looked uncomfortable to the point of illness. Over the girl’s shoulder, he caught Claire’s eye and stared at her, though she couldn’t tell if he was trying to get her to go away or to come help him. She decided on the second option (again, purely out of curiosity), and walked up to where the three Ravenclaw students sat.

“Hey, Brian!” Claire said, in her best Cheerful House Captain voice. “How did you go with the Transmutation homework?”

The three students turned to her in confusion.

Brian blinked. “Uh, I thought it was pretty easy.”

So had Claire, but fuck if she knew what else to talk to Brian about. “Really? I have  _ no  _ idea what to write for the last question, it’s so  _ confusing _ . Can I take a look at yours, pretty pleease?”

Brian nodded, still a little dazed looking, and while he bent down for his bag Marius exchange a glance with the girl, who now that she was closer Claire was pretty sure was Beau From Yoga’s cousin Tracy.

“Wait,” said Tracy, “Are you guys, like, friends?”

Claire had a momentary flashback to the first level corridor on Saturday morning, when she promised Brian she’d pretend—convincingly—to be his friend for a month. At the time it had sounded irritatingly hard, but now, looking at Tracy and Marius’ incredulous expressions, it seemed stupidy easy.

“Well, duh. We’ve been in Honours Evocation together for like, two years. How weird would it be if we weren’t friends?” she said, rolling her eyes a little. “Are you guys done here? I really want to go over this with Brian and you’re kind of in the way.”

Marius and Tracy exchanged another bewildered look and vacated the bench, walking quickly towards the other sixth-year Ravenclaw students. Claire was pretty sure she could hear one of them say  _ I’m still drunk, right? Or hallucinating? That didn’t really just happen? _

Sitting down next to Brian, who was still rummaging around his bag, Claire batted his arm. “Mate, forget it, I don’t actually need help with Transmutation. That homework was so easy it was  _ boring _ .”

Brian looked up at her and blinked slowly. “Oh, okay. Um, thanks for that.”

“It’s fine, you looked like you needed the help,” said Claire, shrugging.

The two of them sat in silence for a few seconds, Claire looking around just in case her mother—her father, her sister, her second-cousin-once-removed, anyone—was waiting for her. They were not.

Eventually, Brian cleared his throat and said, “You don’t have to hang around me now, though. You can go sit with your friends.”

Claire opened her mouth with the intention of agreeing, but before she got the words out she realised two things:

First, none of her friends, who were sitting in their usual little knot at the Gryffindor table, had said happy birthday to her that morning.

And second, Brian looked like he was about to cry.

Now, Claire might have been on the cusp of some deep personal revelations that weekend, but she was still a selfish girl at heart, so those two reasons did indeed have an equal weight in her decision to reply, “It’s fine, I’m okay here. But, um, are you alright? What were they going on about?”

Brian looked at her for a few seconds, swallowing, and said, “Do you really care?”

And to her surprise, Claire found that she did. “Yes.”

Brian sighed, and started picking at his breakfast. “I fucked up a spell―badly. That’s why I was in detention on Saturday.”

“That’s it?” Claire asked, incredulous. “That’s what they were being arseholes about?”

“Well it’s not exactly the first time it’s happened. I just―I don’t know. I burnt off this first-year girl’s eyebrows.”

“Oh, I heard about that, Toya, right? But she’s fine! They grew back in no time!”

Brian’s voice shook as he said, “I know, but. I’ve been trying  _ so hard  _ this year, and I just―I can’t―I know  _ how  _ to do all the spells, I just...can’t get them  _ out _ .”

Claire patted his arm in a way that would’ve been horribly awkward had either of them paid attention. “Well, you were fantastic on Saturday, Brian. Maybe you’re, I don’t know, trying too hard?”

He was sniffling now. “But I can’t  _ not  _ try! And―and, Marius and Tracy never get  _ anything  _ wrong, and I don’t know what to do about it and if I don’t get my grades up my parents are going to kill me and I won’t be able to graduate and oh my  _ god _ Claire I don’t know what to  _ do _ ―”

“Brian, I’m saying this because we’re friends now, so: shut up.” 

Brian’s head jolted up and Claire met his watery gaze. 

“You need to stop worrying about Marius and Tracy, for one. I know they act like they’re the shit but Tracy’s cousin does yoga with me and  _ she  _ says that Tracy couldn’t cast an attack spell if her life depended on it, and I know for a fact that Marius cried like a baby when he got mud on his robes last week in Druidry. So, really, you’re tougher than both of them  _ and  _ a better spellcaster under pressure. I would’ve died―” well, maybe “―on Saturday without you, so who gives a shit what they think?” 

Brian blinked at her for a few seconds before a wobbly smile broke out on his face. 

“Well if my best friend doesn’t care what they think, I suppose I can try ignoring it.”

Claire nodded, rolling her eyes again, and smiled back at him.

“But,” he added, “I really would like some help practising for the Enchantment exam.” 

She snorted. “If you think I’m letting you practise Enchantment on me you’re crazy. But I  _ will  _ help you bully Bunder into it, god knows he needs the help as well. Deal?”

He giggled. “Deal. Pancake?”

Claire swung around to sit on the bench with him properly and was tucking into her stolen pancake when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning back around, she saw a familiar face—Bryce, the half-elf who usually sat near her during breakfast. They were holding out an equally familiar envelope; the very particular shimmery pink that her mother used to send her their weekly letter.

Her stomach dropped.  _ Oh god, something must have happened,  _ of course.  _ That’s why Mum couldn’t meet me today _ — _ fuck, I hope no one’s hurt! _

“Your owl dropped this off,” said Bryce, handing her the envelope and pushing their hair behind their ears. “Hey, Brian. Oh, and happy birthday, Claire! I’ve got to run, but I’ll see you both in Transmutation.” They turned and walked back towards the house table.

Claire held the envelope in her manicured hands, not wanting to open it and read what terrible thing had stopped her mother from picking her up that morning. She snatched Brian’s knife out of his hand and, carefully, slit the envelope.

It took all of three sentences for Claire to go from feeling anxious to angry:

_Hi darling, hope everything’s going well at school_ — _did you get that extra credit essay for Evocation in? We’ve been so busy at home with Ginny’s wedding that I can’t really write much now, but the next time you come home I know you’ll absolutely love what she’s doing with the floral arrangement! Lots of love, see you at the end of term_ _xx Mum & Dad _

“I can’t believe this,” Claire said, crumpling up the note. She grabbed her wand and set it on fire, willing herself not to cry in front of  _ Brian Johnson _ , of all people.

“What?” he asked, looking both disturbed and mildly impressed.

“They fucking forgot my birthday.”

Claire stood and left her appropriated breakfast to Brian as she rushed out of the Great Hall, not caring if anyone saw her. Thankfully, Jester Lavorre’s duplicate seemed to be creating some kind of chaos with the entire Gryffindor supply of doughnuts, so no one paid much attention to her leaving the hall, crying.

No one except a quiet girl in yellow and black, who watched, frowning, as Claire ran out.

—

The day did not get better after that. Claire had just enough time to run up and grab her books, as she was clearly going to be staying in school all day, but catching sight of her blotchy red-faced reflection in the common room mirror was enough to make her want to skip school again. If only that  _ bitch  _ Ferben hadn’t said she’d be checking Claire’s attendance record for the rest of term.

Walking a few minutes late into double Alchemy, Claire had composed herself enough that no one who didn’t know her well would be able to tell how upset she way, and anyone who  _ did  _ would be smart enough to know not to mention it. Now, if only she could find a seat.

_ It’s fine _ , she told herself.  _ You’re good at Alchemy, you did the homework, you’ll be fine, you’ll get through this and you’ll tell the girls everything that happened and everything will be oka _ —

“Hey, Stannish! Looking  _ fine  _ today!” called a voice from the back of the classroom.

_ Fuck. _

Turning, Claire saw that there was indeed a single spare seat in the classroom: between John Bunder, wearing the same dirty green bandana as on Saturday, and Andy Clark, who was seated as far away from Bunder as humanly possible. 

Apparently Bunder came to this realisation at the same time as Claire, because as she started walking towards their table his expression rapidly changed from mockery, to delight, to alarm, when he saw how deeply irritated she looked. Andy’s eyes widened and he scooted over even further, now only barely hanging on to the edge of the chair.

_ You really must have pissed off someone Up There _ .  _ When was the last time you said a prayer to the Dawnfather? _

_ If I have to listen to my own subconscious  _ and  _ John Bunder for the next three hours I will not be held responsible for my actions,  _ Claire thought, taking the seat in between the two boys and slamming her textbooks on the table. 

“Hey,” muttered Bunder, smiling. “You alright, princess?”

“No, and if you call me that again I’ll kill you in your sleep,” Claire hissed back, taking out her components as Professor Vape wrote up the instructions for this double’s practical.

“Alright, alright, just trying to be friendly,” he said, holding up his palms in a  _ calm down  _ gesture, which Claire did not appreciate in the slightest.

To her left, Andy sighed. “Leave it, John, she’s not interested.”

Bunder rolled his eyes and went about lighting a fire with the end of his wand, despite, Claire noticed, the instructions specifying that this potion was to be mixed cold first.

Claire turned her head to the other boy and mouthed,  _ John? _ Andy looked away and shrugged, taking out his own components, and beginning the process. 

And It might have just been the lighting in the lower levels of the school, or maybe he’d had early morning Quidditch practise, but Claire could’ve sworn that Andy’s face was more flushed than usual.

―

Considering the kind of day she was having it was no surprise to Claire that her attempt at a Potion of Animal Friendship was going poorly. By the end of the first hour, what was supposed to be an opaque mint-coloured liquid was instead this congealed, radioactive-looking thing that even the professor wasn’t sure she could save.

“Might be best to give that one up, Stannish,” Professor Vape said, staring at the semi-solid blob at the bottom of her cauldron with a look of open disgust. “Share with Bunder, try and see if you can come up with something passable between the two of you.”

_ I don’t deserve this _ , Claire thought, casting Prestidigitation on the cauldron and turning to Bunder. Though his potion wasn’t nearly as poisonous-looking or solid as hers had been, it was still a much stranger colour than what they were aiming for.

“Okay, where are you up to?” she asked, steeling herself for two hours of  _ oh god why me _ .

“Dunno, got distracted,” replied Bunder, scribbling on the side of the desk. “You’re just too hot, babe.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Why are you still doing that? It’s not fooling anyone, you know.”

Bunder looked at her in surprise. “Do you think I’m not actually into you or something? Because I  _ promise _ , I can convince yo―”

“What day is it today?” she cut him off, trying to figure out where in the recipe they were up to from how many fish scales were still on the table.

“The fuck?”

“If you’re so into me, what day is it today?”

“It’s, uh… the fourth of November?” 

Claire didn’t say anything, but raised her eyebrows at him as if to say,  _ try again _ .

“Day before Bonfire Night?”

The eyebrows went up higher.

“Matthew McConaughey’s birthday?”

“Weirdly, you’re almost close.”

Andy, who’d been listening to their conversation, sighed. “Shit, it’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

“Bingo!” Claire said, almost snarling. 

_ God, not even the guy pretending to be in love with her remembered it was her birthday.  _

“So,” she went on, glaring at a cowed Bunder, “how do expect me to believe you actually like me when all you do is make innuendo and stupid jokes, and you don’t know a thing about me?”

Andy shook his head. “Christ, John. That’s kinda fucked.”

Bunder swallowed. “I, um. That’s―that’s fair.”

There was an uncomfortable silence for a solid thirty seconds before Andy stood and said, “I’m going to go check if anyone has a spare hummingbird tongue...uh, be back in a tick.”

Claire turned her glare onto the potion as if she could will it to stop being orange. When she looked up to check the board, intent on ignoring Bunder for at least the rest of the class and possibly the remainder of the school year, she was surprised to see he wasn’t looking at either her or the potion.

He had an expression of―maybe  _ softness  _ was the wrong word, but certainly something less caustic than his usual smirk―on his face, staring intently at the front of the classroom. Claire followed his gaze and saw Andy, chatting and laughing with one of his housemates, a half-orc, and fellow house captain, by the name of Fjord Something (Claire had always been awful with names). 

Claire wasn’t sure she’d ever seen that kind of look on Bunder’s face before; not quite gentle, or sweet, but certainly fond. It was such a far sight from the theatrical desire he plastered on his face whenever flirting with her that it took Claire a moment to place it but―

“Oh my god,” she said, grinning.

Bunder’s face snapped around to meet hers, horror slowly dawning on his face as he realised she’d caught him staring. 

He gulped. “What?”

Claire felt her grin growing bigger.  _ Oh, this is excellent.  _

“I don’t get it,” she said, propping her chin up on one hand. “Were you trying to make him jealous? Because I don’t think it worked, mate.”

Bunder stared at her for a few seconds as his face took on a similar colour to the potion, before he picked up a spoon to start stirring, refusing to meet Claire’s eye.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t. You know, it’s 2018, Bunder, it’s okay to―”

“I swear to God if you say ‘it’s okay to be gay’ I will Fireball this classroom, Stannish.”

Claire giggled. “I think that might set off  _ some  _ of the wards.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time this month.” Bunder said, voice betraying his amusement.

“That was  _ you _ ?” Claire gasped, still laughing, as she remembered the chaos that had erupted in the Conjuration classrooms last Wednesday. “The whole third floor was wet for  _ hours _ !”

Bunder glanced at her sideways, smiling. “Why did you think I was in detention?”

“You know, I hadn’t really thought about it,” she replied, in a mock-pensive tone. “It just seemed like you belonged there.”

He rolled his eyes at her, and deadpanned, “Jeez, Claire, you wound me.”

Claire snorted, nearly tipping the cauldron over as she added some squirrel hairs.

“Seriously, though,” she said, “What was with all the flirting―which I  _ assume  _ you’re going to give up on―if you never even felt that way?”

Bunder shrugged. “I really did used to like you that way, ages ago. When I asked Andy about it he was all,  _ mate, you should go for it, you’re a catch, she’ll love you _ , and that, and every time you shot me down he was really nice about it and try and make me feel better and shit, and―I don’t know―it was nice. Talking to him about that kind of thing.”

He looked at Claire as if expecting her to say something, but she just waved her hands in a kind of  _ keep going  _ gesture, so he sighed and continued:

“And, look, I know it sounds super dumb, but it just took me a while to realise that I liked talking to him about that kind of shit more than I liked talking to, well, you, and by then it was kind of like our  _ thing _ , y’know? Like I’d hit on you, you’d tell me to fuck off, Andy would cheer me up. And then eventually I just stopped caring about whether you turned me down or not. So. Yeah.”

Claire frowned. “Ugh, that’s actually kind of sweet.”

“Huh?”

“I thought you were just going to say he’s got a great arse or something.”

Bunder snorted. “Well, that’s a given.”

The two of them made eye contact and held it for only a second before bursting out laughing, attracting the attention of the professor, who called from the front, “Stannish and Bunder, have you accidentally created a Potion of Laughter? If not, get back to work.”

Stifling her giggling, Claire nudged Bunder as she starting sorting through what needed to go into the potion next. 

“So, have you ever tried putting the moves on  _ him _ ?” she asked, as innocently as she could.

Bunder choked and spluttered, “ _ God _ , Claire, why would―what do you― _ no _ !”

But despite his protests, and increasingly obvious red flush spreading across his cheeks, Claire noticed that Bunder couldn’t keep himself from smiling at the thought of maybe getting Andy as flustered as he tried to get Claire.

Across the classroom, Andy finished his conversation with Fjord and walked back over to their bench, hummingbird tongue in hand. “You two sorted your shit out, then?” he asked, sliding next to Claire and leaning over to check on their potion, which was now a bright bubbling yellow. “That looks poisonous.”

“Bunder doesn’t get enough love at home, so he’s been acting out with me because I remind him of his mother,” Claire said, deadpan, holding back her laughter as she grabbed the spoon.

Blinking, Andy raised his eyebrows at Bunder above Claire’s head. Bunder shrugged, still grinning uncontrollably. Andy shook his head and returned to his own potion, which was now a near-perfect light green. 

“Makes sense,” he teased, smiling slightly.

Bunder gave an exaggerated gasp. “Don’t be fucking rude,” he said, knocking Andy’s elbow so he nearly knocked over the potion.

Andy’s eyes opened in panic as his concoction sloshed around the cauldron dangerously, and glared at Bunder, who only smiled wider. “I swear to god, you do that again and you’re dead before the first drop hits the ground,” he said, making to grab for his wand.

For barely half a second, Bunder made eye contact with Claire, before winking at Andy and saying, “Oof, you're pretty sexy when you get angry, Clark.”

There was a  _ crash  _ and a  _ clang  _ from her left, and when Claire turned to Andy in alarm she saw him sprawled on the floor, looking at Bunder with blank shock written across his face and a pink blush spreading across his cheeks. Apparently, he’d jolted so violently he’d finally slipped off his chair, taking the potion with him, if the fizzing green patch on his shirt was anything to go by.

“CLARK! BUNDER! STANNISH! WHAT’S GOING ON BACK THERE?”

―

An hour and forty-five minutes, a Prestidigitation spell, and a metric ton of punishment homework later, Claire walked into the Great Hall for lunch still wiping away tears of laughter, trailed by two red-faced wizards. 

From the far side of the hall, several Slytherin sixth-years started calling out to Bunder, who turned to Claire and Andy with an apologetic  _ what can I do about it?  _ gesture.

“It’s fine, go,” Andy said, watching with a smile as Bunder flicked Claire in the side of the head smiled at him, and walked over to his other friends. 

Claire made to walk towards her own house table, as far away from her usual friends as possible, and was surprised to see Andy following her. She frowned at him. “Everything alright?”

Andy shrugged. “Didn’t feel like explaining what happened in Alchemy. Besides, you shouldn’t sit alone on your birthday.”

“And what makes you think I’d be sitting alone?” Claire huffed, not really annoyed.

“Call it intuition.” Andy said, grabbing a piece of bread off the Hufflepuff table as they passed.

Immediately, there was a  _ snap _ as a vine shot out from underneath the table to wrap around Andy’s ankle, nearly tripping him over. Claire leaned around him and saw a dark-haired head pop up from below the table cloth, and felt an unidentifiable warmth in the pit of her stomach when she realised who it was.

“It’s rude to steal, Andrew.” said Allison. Though she wasn’t smiling, Claire got the feeling this was her idea of a prank and couldn’t stop herself from giving a little laugh.

Andy did his best to disentangle himself from the vine without actually kicking it, which, knowing Allison, would surely have resulted in something infinitely worse for him. Claire remembered hearing about a boy who tried to put out his cigarette on the lawn behind the greenhouse getting caught in a thorn bush the size of a car, which disappeared as soon as a professor came near.

_ It’s so sweet how much she loves her plants,  _ Claire thought.

_ You hate nature.You told Caduceus Clay you’re allergic to grass so you wouldn’t have to go to his garden party last summer. _

_ Shut up.  _

“Hi, Ali,” said Andy, who’d successfully disentangled himself while Claire had been Not Staring.

Allison broke into a smile. “Hi, Andy. Hey, Claire.”

Claire blinked at her for a while before Andy, looking bewildered, nudged her foot. 

“Ah, thanks, Allison! Glad to see you’re okay after Saturday!” she said, at odds with how to talk to Allison and fumbling around for her House Captain Smile. Clearly she hadn’t quite managed it, as now both Allison and Andy were looking at her like she had something green on her face.

Turning back to Allison, Andy said, “Can we sit with you today?”

Not breaking eye contact with Claire, Allison nodded. She snapped her fingers so her vines disappeared, leaving only a few stray flower petals behind, and scooted over for someone to sit next to her on the bench. Claire took the seat directly in front of her, leaving Andy to slide next to Allison.

The three of them started eating in silence, Claire deciding that  _ fuck diet spells, I want carbohydrates on my birthday  _ and piling her plate with as many varieties of fried potatoes as she could see. Andy watched her with eyes as large as the plate he was eating off, mournfully munching his Quidditch-season-mandated chicken salad. 

Strangely, though the Great Hall was, as always, filled with the sounds of so much talking, shouting, and eating that it was barely possible to hear the people sitting across from her, Claire was  _ sure  _ she could hear the other girls from her dorm chattering away on the other end of the hall. It was like Avantika was sitting right next to her, saying  _ Are you sure you want to eat tha _ ―

“―you okay, Claire?” Andy was asking, looking concerned.

Claire shook her head to clear it and tried for a genuine smile. “Yeah, today’s just. Not been that great. Wha―”

One of the vines that had clung to Andy earlier was now, gently, wrapping itself around her wrist. Slowly, Claire brought it closer to her face. As she did so a small pink and white flower unfurled itself, falling off into her hand.

She looked up at Allison, who was watching her intently. When they made eye contact Allison smiled tentatively and said, “You look kind of sad.”

Andy looked between the two girls, one of whom who’d gone back to her soup and the other who was staring open-mouthed at the flower, with a look of dawning comprehension.

Claire looked away from the flower to Andy, and was about to deny anything being wrong before realising that, well, he probably wouldn’t care. She’d just seen him spill potion all over himself because a cute boy winked at him―he wasn’t going to judge her for being upset about her family and friends forgetting her birthday.

What a weird feeling, to be comfortable around her peers.

“I thought I was going to go out with my mum today,” Claire started, trying to stay calm, “for my birthday, but she forgot because she’s too busy cooing over my sister’s wedding―and none of my friends remembered it’s my birthday either―”  _ fuck, I’m about to start crying, aren’t I. _

“―and they didn’t ask me how detention went because all they cared about was the new slimming spells they got in Hogsmead, and―”  _ yep, crying. _

“―and I fucked up that potion in Alchemy, and I, and―and I don’t think I like my friends and―and oh my  _ god  _ I hate this  _ school,  _ just  _ look  _ at me―who the  _ fuck  _ has a breakdown on their goddamn  _ birthday _ !” Claire finished, using the tablecloth to wipe her now-dripping nose as despite her best efforts, tears started streaming down her face.

As awful as it felt to be crying in public, there was a part of Claire that was grateful for the two students in front of her, who weren’t trying to get her to shut up, or to ignore her feelings. They were just listening, and accepting her emotions; regardless of how shitty she’d been to them in the past, they weren’t mocking her or taking advantage of how helplessly vulnerable she was feeling.

Allison handed her a Winnie-the-Pooh tissue and patted her hand. “Everyone has a bad birthday at some point,” she said quietly,  “That doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with  _ you _ .”

Andy poured a glass of water and slid it across to Claire. “I reckon it’s just part of growing up.”

Claire sneezed and took a long gulp of water before saying, “Fuck growing up, then.”

Allison nodded. “I think when you grow up your heart dies.”

“Oooff,” said Andy, looking at Allison, “that’s profound, Ali.”

She shrugged. “I saw it in a movie once.”

Turning back to face Claire, Andy said, “Did you parents really forget about your birthday because your sister’s getting married?”

Claire rolled her eyes and sighed. “Yeah, she’s renting a castle in Scotland, mid May ceremony, Sunday service, white and pink everything―the whole shebang. Mum’s out of her mind happy. And so am I, it’s just, well, the wedding’s in six months and I don’t know…” she trailed off.

“...your birthday’s today,” finished Andy. “Trust me, I get the whole parents-living-their-lives -through-their-kids thing.”

Allison looked confused, snuggling into her oversized scarf as she asked, “Living their lives through you?” she asked.

“Yeah,” said Andy, picking at his salad. “Like you have to pick the subjects they wish they’d picked, and play the sports they played, and if you don’t get everything  _ exactly right _ ,” he was stabbing his salad now “then it’s like the end of the  _ bloody  _ world.”

Claire snapped her fingers in front of Andy’s face to bring him out of whatever mental hole he was falling down into. “Hey,” she said, “that sounds a lot worse than me and mine, Andy. Are you okay?”

Andy sighed. “I don’t even know anymore. I got a letter from Dad this morning about the whole detention thing. He wasn’t even mad about what I  _ did _ , it was just that I got in trouble for it, and it just made me realise how fucked he is, like as a person.”

Frowning slightly, Claire said, “Wait, what did you do to get detention? I thought you just didn’t hand in homework or something.”

“I,” he started, glancing between Claire, who was looking worried but non-judgemental, and Allison, who was just looking confused. “I was messing around with some of the guys from Quidditch, and one guy just wouldn’t stop going on about how great he was at Enchantment and it was pissing us all off. 

“So for a laugh I called up Arms of Hadar and had them do the weird tentacle thing―I wasn’t trying to  _ hurt  _ him,” Andy rushed to add, as Allison’s eyes widened, “just, y’know, scare him a little. But it, ah, didn’t go like I thought it would and he got pretty banged up.”

“Jesus, Andy,” said Claire, “that’s intense.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “and I feel  _ awful  _ about it. But my dad was, almost, I dunno, impressed that I did it, except for the fact that I got in trouble.  _ That’s  _ what pissed him off. Not that I hurt this kid, just that I got a mark on my permanent record.”

The three of them sat in silence for another ten minutes or so, thinking over what they’d all just said. Eventually the gong rang to signal the end of class, and, with an oddly lighter heart, Claire picked up her books.

“Hey, thanks, you guys,” Claire said as the three of them walked out of the Hall. “It's really human of you to listen to all my bullshit.”

Andy ruffled her hair, causing Claire to scoff indignantly and slap his hand away. “No worries, Stannish. Hope it gets better for you.” With that, Claire watched as he walked through the front doors to Care of Magical Creatures, leaving the two girls in the foyer.

Allison tugged on Claire’s sleeve to catch her attention. “Where are you now?” she asked.

Claire thought it was unfair that she was so drained though it was barely halfway through the day, but as emotionally vulnerable as she was feeling she couldn’t stop herself staring at Allison’s little half-smile. The sun shining through the moving stained glass above the main entrance made this amazing little spots of colour across Allison’s face, like someone had painted jewel-toned watercolours over her cheekbones, and it took Claire a few seconds to process that she’d been asked a question.

“Um, uh.” said Honour Roll Student Claire Stannish. “Transmutation on third. You?”

Allison’s eyes dropped in what might have been― _ is it weird to hope this is what it was? _ ―disappointment. “Divination in the tower. But,” her face brightened a little, “I’ll see you in Healing, yeah?”

Claire couldn’t stop herself smiling back. “I might have to sit with you again, Ali, I don’t know if I’m up for listening to Gryffin Errondil complain about her fingernails getting dirty.”

“Oh, well,” Allison giggled. “If you  _ must _ , I suppose it’s okay. Have fun in Transmutation.”

_ Hmmmm...shit. _

Apparently unaware of how pink Claire blushed after hearing her laugh, Allison pulled her scarf back around her neck and shuffled up the side stairs to the Divination tower, leaving Claire to stare after her before remembering that she too had a class to get to.

―

Transmutation didn’t, in the end, go as badly as Claire might have expected. It was one of the few classes she had with the Ravenclaws, who, with the exception of a few genuine lunatics, were an easy enough group to get along with.

The great thing about Transmutation was that after an incident involving Caleb Widogast’s cat and a misfired Enlarge spell, all the desks were separated and a strict new seating plan was enforced, so Claire was spared having to talk to anyone. However, that did mean that she was the Designated Note Passer between Jester Lavorre and Nott, who always seemed to have a new conspiracy theory to discuss with each other.

Class went fairly quickly, and before she knew it she was packing up her things again. As Claire walked towards the door, there was a tap on her shoulder, and when she turned she saw Brian, looking a little sheepish.

“Are you doing alright?” he asked, awkwardly making eye contact.

Claire gave him a tight smile. “More or less. Did some therapeutic meddling, ate some hot chips―”  _ got a flower from Allison Reynolds  _ “―so I’m a bit better now.”

Brian smiled back. “That’s good.”

“But,” Claire said, narrowing her eyebrows a little, “what about you? Are Tracy and Marius still bothering you?” She looked around the classroom for them, but they must have left already.

He shrugged. “Not since this morning. I think Marius was going to say something to before class started but we ended up sitting with Caleb and that purple tiefling from Gryffindor―”

“God, he’s a pain.”

“―nah, he’s alright, I think, but anyway, he was talking Caleb’s ear off and Marius didn’t really get a chance to say anything to me. But thanks for asking,” Brian finished, as they followed the rest of their classmates out to the hallway and down the stairs.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Claire said, waving her hand at him.

Brian gave her a strange look. “Would you have asked me if I was okay last week?”

“...probably not.”

“Then it’s something.”

―

At the bottom of the stairs, Brian waved goodbye to Claire, who continued through the main entry towards the external medical ward where Healing took place. Outside the main greenhouse, Hufflepuff was already lined up, huddling together against the cold November wind.

Claire found herself scanning the line until she saw a familiar head of choppy black hair sticking up from a yellow and black bundle.

“Hiya,” Claire said, walking towards Allison. 

“Hi yourself,” she replied, dark eyes twinkling in the afternoon sunlight. 

_ Fuck, she’s pretty,  _ Claire thought.

_ Claire, that’s gay,  _ commented the voice at the back of her head.

“How was Divination?” Claire asked, swallowing her feelings. “Please tell me there was a death prediction,  _ someone  _ must be having a worse day than me.”

The corners of Allison’s mouth turned up in a grin. “Hmm, not quite. But I did ask Cad Clay if I could share his teapot and I found a fingernail in the leaves, so it wasn’t a complete waste.”

Seeing the look of mild horror on Claire’s face, Allison snorted and broke into a proper smile. “Only joking, Claire.”

As the students shuffled in, Claire took the seat to Allison’s right at the benches in the back of the ward, opposite the massive glass window that showed the fading afternoon light, though it was barely half past three.

Not many other wizards took Healing as an elective, and honestly Claire had been considering switching it out for something a little more exciting, but that afternoon’s class was so strangely interesting that Claire was temporarily considering becoming a healer. 

The initial discussion of the properties of Goodberries, which ordinarily might have put Claire to sleep, seemed much more interesting when she had Allison next to her. The other girl didn’t even necessarily talk, just scratched things into the surface of the bench and made soft vines curl up around Claire’s ankles. 

Claire wasn’t even sure Allison was aware of what she was doing, but it was so endearing she couldn’t bring herself to mention it lest it stop. 

_ You barely knew who she was last week, and now you’re fawning over her? _

_ I’m not  _ fawning  _ over her. I just didn’t realise she was this―well―cute. _

Throughout the class, whenever Allison looked up to see Claire staring out the window, or frowning at something the professor said, she would say something under her breath and more flowers would drop in Claire’s lap, causing her to smile in surely the same way as a lovestruck loon. And indeed, any of their classmates who looked at the two girls might be inclined to question what possessed Claire Stannish, the Ice Cold Bitch of Gryffindor Tower, to look at these small azaleas like they were a Well of Many Worlds.

Claire couldn’t bring herself to care.

―

By the time class was over, Claire had taken far fewer notes than usual, but had learned a great deal about both Goodberries and her own attention span.

As they left the medical centre the sun was almost set, and though the biting wind that had kept up during the afternoon was gone, a pleasantly (to Claire’s witchy sensibilities) eerie fog was starting to creep up from the lake.

Claire made to turn to the main entrance but Allison stopped her with a, “Wait, Claire, can I show you something?”

Turning around to face Allison in the last rays of the sunset, Claire replied, “Of course. Lead on!”

Allison stepped in front of her and started walking around the other side of the castle, towards the greenhouses. Claire had only been in these a few times before, but was surprised to find the back door was unlocked. 

Inside, the regulation warmth hit Claire like a hot shower―though there were no lights, the west-facing windows allowed her to see the outlines of many more flowers and ferns than she could name. There was even a small fountain towards the back of the structure, away from the work benches. 

It was there that Allison headed towards, carefully avoiding stepping on any overgrown roots on the floor. Perching on the edge of the fountain, she unwound her scarf and motioned for Clair to sit next to her.

Doing so, Claire realised that she’d never seen Allison not wearing―hiding in―her massive scarf. Without it she looked strangely vulnerable, not uncomfortable, exactly, but―maybe―exposed.

“Close your eyes,” Allison instructed, with an expression of utmost seriousness on her face.

Claire closed her eyes, and heard the girl next to her mutter something for a few seconds before saying, “Ok, you can open them now.” And so, Claire opened her eyes.

The greenhouse was beautiful. Some kind of ethereal violet-indigo-blue-turquoise-green lights were shining from around the plants, the fountain, even around Claire and Allison. It was like that afternoon in front of the stained glass window, but both easier to look at and harder to see. 

The lights seemed to shimmer and move around them, bouncing off the glass and the water of the fountain, giving an effect almost like they were underwater in a sea not of this realm. Little globules of the lights coalesced in the air before them, something like the Dancing Lights that Claire could conjure, but much softer.

When she looked at Allison, Claire watched the lights play over her freckled face, bouncing off her shiny dark eyes and her black hair, giving the illusion that she was some kind of nymph, or sprite, or faerie, even―a creature both immeasurably powerful and incredibly delicate.

Claire had never seen anything like it.

Allison clapped her hands once, and sixteen of the little balls of faerie light came towards them, arranging themselves in a little circle before Claire like birthday candles. Catching Claire’s eye, she smiled and gestured with both hands towards the lights.

“Happy Birthday, Claire. Make a wish.”

Claire stared at her, and couldn’t help but let out a breathless laugh.

“Ali, I think it already came true.”

They sat there in silence, watching the lights dance for a few minutes, before a resounding  _ crash  _ from the far side of the greenhouse startled both girls out of their reverie.

Claire jumped to her feet in front of Allison, wand ready, and called out, “Who’s there?”

No response, but she could hear some kind of scuffle as what sounded like at least two bodies tried, unsuccessfully, to stand up. Motioning for Allison to follow behind her, Claire crept through the winding rows of potted plants to where she thought the noise had come from. Rounding the last corner, she held Magic Missile ready before peaking around to see―

“Andrew Clark, is that yo―BUNDER!”

Allison whipped around Claire’s other side to confirm that, yes, it  _ was  _ Andy sprawled, for the second time that day, on the floor, tie askew and shirt untucked. Bunder was half under him, sitting in a now-broken potted plant and wearing what looked like Andy’s Quidditch robes and sporting a very impressive dark red mark on his neck. Neither Claire nor Allison had ever seen Andy flush as red as he did at this moment.

“It’s―uh, fuck―it’s not what it looks like,” he stammered, looking desperately to Bunder for help.

True to form, Bunder cackled. “Oh, no, it’s probably worse.”

―

It took the four of them twenty minutes of Mending and floral arrangement to fix the broken pot, at which point Andy more or less grabbed Bunder by his shirt collar and dragged him out, leaving Allison and Claire to walk up to the Great Hall in time for dinner.

Pausing outside the Hall doors, Claire and Allison stood awkwardly, holding on to each other with one hand. Allison’s scarf was back around her neck, and she burrowed into it in such a way that was not dissimilar to her honey badger form.

_ She’s been so kind to me today,  _ Claire thought.  _ I was a bitch to her on Saturday, and she’s still been so nice to me. I don’t deserve to have her as a friend, let alo― No. _

Allison looked up from pulling on the threads of her skirt, and her inky dark eyes seemed to read Claire’s mind. 

“So,” she began, “was your birthday as shit as you expected?”

Claire couldn’t help but smile at how―bizarrely―nervous Allison seemed. As if showing her the Faerie Fire hadn’t been one of the best presents Claire had ever gotten.

“It wasn’t too bad.” she replied. “In fact it was probably one of my better ones, and I haven’t even had cake yet.”

Allison raised her eyebrows in alarm. “I  _ knew  _ I forgot something.” She held the corner of her sleeve up to her mouth and started muttering something into it.

“Ali, no, I’m joking,” Claire rushed to say, grabbing Allison’s hands, “what you did with the Faerie Fire―it was beautiful, I’ve never seen anything like it.  _ Thank you _ .”

Allison relaxed a little, still fidgeting with her jumper hem, and was quiet for a few moments before saying, “Good. I thought, well, you seemed a bit upset about your mum. And,” she cut herself off, seeming to struggle for words momentarily, “I get that. Being forgotten about by your parents. Mine practically ignore me even when I’m at home.”

Claire stared, and without thinking said, “How could your parents ignore you? You’re perfect!”

_ Fuck. _

“I mean,” Claire backtracked, as Allison’s eyes bugged out. “You’d be the perfect daughter; you’re smart, and kind, and nice to people, and―”

“―and an alcoholic attention seeker,” Allison snorted, “who follows pretty girls to detention just because she feels like it.”

Claire unclasped one of her hands from Allison’s to rest it on the other girl’s shoulder. “Well, we’ve all got our vices, right? At least―wait.” The bottom of her stomach seemed to drop out as she processed the rest of what Allison said. “Who did you follow to detention?”

Allison cocked her head and stared at Claire. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Claire blinked stupidly at her for a good few seconds.

“You, silly,” said Allison, starting that shy smile of hers.

_ Fuck. _

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“You...followed... _ me _ ...to detention.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You...didn’t actually have detention on Saturday.”

“Correct.”

“You were there because you think I’m pretty.”

“You’ve got the idea.”

Several seconds passed, and Allison started to look a bit concerned that she’d broken Claire.

“Um,” she began, “are you alrig―”

Rather than let her finish the question, Claire leaned forward―tipped forward―something―and kissed her, softly, sweetly, light as anything, on the lips. 

_ Fuck. _

It wasn’t a perfect kiss―Claire’s lips barely touched Allison’s, and they were half blinded by someone opening the Great Hall doors, and Claire nearly lost her balance from stretching too far forwards―but it was  _ something _ .

Leaning back so she wouldn’t fall on Allison, Claire once again just stared at her―at this kind, beautiful girl―for a beat before the person who’d opened the doors decided to make their presence known.

“Oi, girls!” came the screeching tones of John Bunder, “Johnson says he’s got a cake for Claire from Beetle, but I swear I’ll eat it myself if you two don’t get in here  _ now _ !”

Allison, amazingly, started to giggle a little. “Well, we musn’t disappoint Beetle,” she whispered.

Claire felt like her face was going to fall off with how sore it was from smiling. “No, we musn’t.”


End file.
